The Diary of Emily Marie Holt
by XDrakePhoenixX
Summary: This is the journal of my original character, Emily Holt. This is in an alternate universe to my other works. The journal explores her life, starting from the day she begins to discover her magic. I hope you enjoy.
1. Chapter 1

**The Journal of Emily Marie Holt**

**Journal Entry 1**

Aloha to whomever is reading this. I hope someone is. The past needs to be remembered for what it really was. I'm talking about the war. It wasn't something out of a fantasy book, it wasn't one of those crappy happily-ever-after stories. It was real. It was horrifying. I wish it had never happened. A part of me wishes I was never a part of it. There was a lot I had seen that cannot be unseen, a lot that was heard that cannot be unheard. A lot that was done, that cannot be undone. Our true enemy were the alien lifeforms that quickly became known as the Neuroi. But they were not our _only_ enemies. Many of them came from within our own race. Brother turned on brother, sister turned on sister. The lines marking the difference between what was right and wrong were so blurred sometimes, it felt like I didn't know which way was up. All in the name of power and money. The politics of war almost drove me insane. I was ashamed to be a part of it. Still am.

My name is Emily Marie Holt. I am a witch. We were naturally chosen as the best weapon against the Neuroi because our magic _was_ the best weapon against them. With our shields we could render their beam technology useless. With our strength, we could use weapons far larger and stronger than any normal foot soldier could. Our striker units, a fusion of magic and technology, allowed us to equip weapons that rivaled tanks and even a few ships. We were invincible. Or so we thought.

We may have been witches, but we were still mortal, and all too human. Our shields were only as powerful as the magic we could put into them, and we had a limited supply. The shields, while powerful, only blocked attacks from one direction. If we used the shield to block a frontal attack, we were completely vulnerable to being flanked. We were also far and few between, compared to the sheer number of normal soldiers. Perhaps one in every ten thousand people are witches in this world. We couldn't be everywhere at once. Although we were less prone to injury, and recovered faster, we still bled. Bones would still break. Hearts would stop beating. And while magic can be used to prevent death, it can do nothing to reverse it.

The war, while in many ways brought us together, was still a horrible thing. During the war, and even after, I saw the worst that life has to offer. On the other hand, however, I also saw the best. I made friends, lost them, made new ones. I know what heartbreak is. But I also know love, and what it really means. I know when to be merciful, and at other times relentless. I know when someone needs my help, or when they need their own help. In the war millions died, and millions more were scarred forever. And yet, life goes on. I am here, writing this today, to tell you my story. It would only make sense to start from the beginning, when I discovered my magic. My name is Emily Marie Holt. This is my story.


	2. Journal Entry 2

**Journal Entry 2**

**Date of Events: 1939**

"C'mon Drake, hurry!" I said, beckoning my twelve-year-old brother to hike faster. He looked at me with an exasperated expression.

"You've been pushing me for the past twenty minutes Em! Give me a break," Drake said, leaning on his staff. Although he was only four years older than me, he was over twice my height, and still growing. His staff was an ornate oak walking stick, with the top end wrapped in iron and studded with gems. It was an heirloom of our family. Although right now, it looked ridiculous, since he was almost six feet tall and it was eight.

"The summit isn't much farther, come on!" I said, ignoring his pleas. I turned around and started sprinting up the rocky hill, dodging the random vines and loose rocks with ease.

"Don't run too far ahead!" Drake hollered after me. Once again ignoring him, I kept going. Suddenly, I heard crashing above my head. Out of the leaves and branches fell an egg! Thinking quickly, I caught the falling object.

"Wow, it looks like a chicken egg!" I said, cupping it gently in my hands. Then it began to crack. Before I could panic, I saw a tiny little beak poking out of the shell. By the time Drake caught up to me, the little baby bird was fully hatched and chirping quietly.

"What do you have there, Em?" Drake asked, looking over my shoulder. A look of surprise flashed over his face. "That's a parrot!"

"A parrot? Can I keep it, pleeeaaase?" I begged.

"No! It's a wild animal, put it back - wait. Did it hatch in your hands?" Drake said, noticing the egg shells. I nodded.

He groaned. "Great, it's imprinted on you," he said.

"Imprinted?" I asked.

"You were the first thing it saw. So it now thinks you are its mother," he explained.

"Aw! Hi there baby, I'm your new mamma," I said, cooing at the baby bird. Drake rolled his eyes. The bird looked up at me with bright eyes, and tried to coo as well. "You sure we can't keep it?"

"I don't think we have much of a choice now. Ugh, Dad is not gonna be happy about this," Drake said. He shook his head. "Come on Em, let's get this little guy back to the hotel. We need to make sure he stays warm." I nodded, and followed my brother back down the trail.

Going down took longer than I thought. By the time we got back to the base camp, the sun was starting to set. Mom and Dad were waiting for us, and they did not seem happy.

"Where have you two been? We've been standing here for over an hour! We almost sent a search team after you," Mom said.

Drake pointed at me and the bird. "We are fine mom, relax. We just picked up an injured bird. We had to take it slow," he replied.

Dad stepped forward. "You should have called the base and let them know. We can't keep it," he said gruffly. I started to panic. They were going to get rid of my bird!

"Emily promised to take care of it. I believe she will. Besides, who better to take care of it than her?" Drake said, rushing to my defense. Before Dad could say anything else, Drake added, "The bird has also imprinted on her. It will not be able to live in the wild now."

Dad pinched the bridge of his nose in agitation. It seemed both he and Drake did that a lot. "If that's the case, then I guess we have no choice. Let's get it inside before it gets too cold out for it," he said.

"How would it get cold? It's almost as hot here as it is at home," I said, following my family.

"It's a baby. It needs to stay very warm, and it can't do that on its own, even in this weather," Drake replied.

"Oh," I said. I sat in the back of the car with Drake, holding the baby bird close for the whole ride. When we got to the hotel we brought it inside. The manager was not pleased to have a parrot in his hotel, but did not argue with my parents. They found an old heat lamp and placed it in our suite, where a small cage was placed as well. Inside was a bottle of water. I gently put the bird in the cage and closed the door, watching it.

"Where is its food?" I asked Drake.

"We are working on that. Baby birds can't eat what adults do. One of the people staying here, however, cares for birds like that. She'll be here momentarily with some special food for him," he said.

"She's a girl," I corrected.

"Special food for her, then. Anyway, she'll tell you what you need to know in order to care for your bird," Drake replied. Soon enough a rather large and older woman came in, and was one of the few women of her age I have met that didn't reek of perfume. She was very straight to the point.

"Let me see the chick please," she said to me. I was hesitant at first. Drake nodded to me, and I retrieved the bird for her. Her hands were thick, but were very gentle as she cradled the bird. It started to squawk nervously.

"It's okay, she won't hurt you," I said soothingly. Immediately the bird calmed down, and allowed the woman to stick a tiny bottle into its mouth.

"You have a very good connection with her, Miss Holt. I can see you are quite empathic," the woman said.

"What does empathic mean? And thank you, Miss, uhm. . ." I said, trailing off when I realized I didn't even know her name.

"Call me Louise. Empathic means you connect to the emotions of others really well. I see bright days in your future," Louise replied, as she fed the bird. Soon she was done, and with great care she placed the baby back in the cage. She then turned to me.

"You'll have to do that for her several times a day. I'll teach you how to make the formula, so that when you leave you don't have to drag an old lady with you," she said with a kind smile. For the rest of the evening she told me a lot about parrots and how to care for them. I took in every word she said, while Drake stood in the background taking notes. Eventually though, she had to leave, and she bade us goodnight.

"You sure you are up for this Em? That bird is going to be a lifelong responsibility," Drake said to me, as we went to our rooms of the night.

"I'm sure. It was meant to be, I just know it!" I said. Drake chuckled and smiled.

"Okay, I believe you then. Good night Emily," he said.

"Good night Drake," I replied. We then went to our rooms for the night, and it didn't take long for me to fall asleep.

* * *

Two months later, the baby bird had tripled in size. She now had pin feathers all over, so she looked really goofy. She was a beautiful bird though, and very friendly. She was so loud though! But I didn't mind so much as my brother did. One day I was outside with her, letting her take in the sights and sounds of our home in Maui, Hawaii. Suddenly, she jumped out of my hands!

"Ruby, where are you going?" I started, then stopped, dumbfounded. Before me was not the little baby parrot I was holding just seconds before, but a gorgeous adult rose-breasted cockatoo. It took me a minute to realize it was my Ruby! I sat down, stunned by what just happened.

"How is that even possible? You were so small just a second ago!" I gasped. I heard the bird chuckle.

"I am your familiar, Emily," Ruby said, speaking perfect Britannian. My jaw dropped.

"My what?" I asked.

"Your familiar. You are a witch," my parrot said, dropping the biggest bombshell of my life.

* * *

_I'm. . . a witch?_ I thought, shocked. To be a witch was a rare and unique honor! I never thought it would happen to me. Granted, my family comes from a line of witches, and ones of no small power. It went in a pattern of male and female, however, down each generation. According the pattern, Drake would be the one to gain magic (which he already did), not me. Two magic-users in my family in one generation has been unheard of since the line first started!

"I. . . I don't understand. . . I mean. . . why?" I stammered. Ruby regarded me with a serious look.

"The winds of change are coming. Devastation looms on the horizon. You are fated to help face this new threat. You must prepare," the bird said gravely.

"Devastation? What do you mean?" I asked, confused. Ruby simply shook her head.

"I can say no more, for I do not know anything beyond what I have already told you. Now, for you to access your magic, you and I must become one," she said. A million other questions were running through my head, but I ignored them. Now was not the time.

"Okay. How are we going to do this?" I asked.

"Put your hand out," Ruby instructed. I did as she asked, my hand outstretched for her to touch. She slowly reached towards my hand. Several things happened next, all within the blink of an eye. There was a flash and a bang, Ruby disappeared, and I was thrown back against the porch stairs as a shock wave hit me. It took me several minutes to regain focus. The first thing I saw when my head stopped swimming was Drake's face, pale and scared.

"Emily! Are you there? How many fingers do you see?" he shouted, holding up two fingers. My head was fine, but his yelling was doing nothing good for my ears.

"I'm fine, stop shouting. Two," I replied, sitting up. Drake's expression changed to relief when he realized I was not hurt. It then quickly changed to shock.

"How is this possible. . ?" he whispered. Sure, NOW he speaks quietly.

"What are you talking about?" I asked. Then I remembered what happened. I put my hands to my head. I felt hair, and then. . . feathers. Running inside, I went into the bathroom and looked at the mirror. Poking out of my head were two salmon pink feathers, almost like bunny ears! I looked at my butt, and saw a spread of similarly colored feathers that extended to my knee level. It was official. I was a witch! I squealed with glee and jumped up and down. I ran out of the bathroom, straight into my parents.

"I'm a witch, I'm a witch, I'm a witch!" I shouted happily, hugging them both. They stared at me in shock, but were quick to recover. They smiled at me.

"We're so happy for you! We must celebrate!" Mom said, picking me up and spinning me around, something she rarely did anymore, since I had gotten a bit big for it. Drake entered the room, and Dad spoke to him.

"Well, it looks like you're not the only magic-user in this house anymore," he said.

Drake chuckled. "I guess so," he said, though a smile was on his face.

I turned to Mom and Drake. "You two will teach me how to be a great witch, right?" I asked.

"Of course honey. I'll teach you everything I know," Mom said.

"I supposed you won't leave me alone until I say yes, so. . . I'm on board too," Drake said. I jumped again and hugged them both. It was one of the happiest days of my life. Little did I know that such happy days. . . were short-lived.


End file.
